


Like Broken Glass

by 100GoldenUrns



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers Family, Dysfunctional Family, Foster Care, Harley Keener is Tony Stark's Adopted Child, Homeless Peter Parker, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, tony is a jerk at first
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2020-09-30 10:29:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20445656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100GoldenUrns/pseuds/100GoldenUrns
Summary: The universe hates Peter Parker. The Ferry Fiasco wasn’t his fault, he was just trying to help. Yet, when he ends up living at the Avengers Compound after running from CPS, none of them take kindly to Peter being there. Least of all Tony Stark. In fact, Peter’s pretty sure that Tony hates him. Struggling with responsibilities, unexpected illness, and the traumatic memories of his past, Peter and the Avengers become somewhat of a dysfunctional family.





	1. One

Peter pressed his thumbnail into his mouth. The sun was setting in Queens and Peter’s stomach growled pitifully. He was sitting on the edge of a building, his fingers gripping the rough, jagged corner, his legs dangling. The feeling of being in the sky had made him feel free just a few months ago. Now, he yearned for the ground, a warm meal, a shower. He punched in a number into his burner phone, the only number he’d ever bothered to memorize.

His breath hitched in his throat, and Peter debated hanging up, but he forced the words out. “I-I need help.”

On the other end of the phone, there was a pause. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

* * *

He and Nick Fury rode in silence. Peter knew he must’ve smell like trash, and his hair was so greasy he wasn’t even sure a shower could save it. But Fury only made a single scathing comment when he first picked Peter up and that was all.

“Where are you taking me?” He thought he was heading to SHIELD headquarters, but he wasn’t entirely sure it was within driving distance.

“The Avengers Compound.”

Peter was alert in an instant. “The Avengers? No, Mr. Fury.”

“They’ll watch over you.”

“No. I can’t-” He didn’t want to explain to Fury what he already knew. Didn’t want to rehash old, noxious memories. Anyways, he figured he didn’t have the right to complain, after everything.

“If nothing else, you’ll have a roof and a shower.”

Peter huffed out a dry laugh. “I’m really sorry.”

About what was implied. The ferry incident that resulted in his one and only meeting with Tony Stark. Running off after Ben’s death. Calling after months on the streets because he couldn’t deal with it anymore. All of the above.

Fury grunted his acknowledgement, never one for emotional moments. So Peter took to staring out the window instead, wringing his hands, and wondering how his life got to this point.

* * *

The elevator doors moved open and Fury herded Peter out. All of the Avengers were there, standing in a circular room, eyes trained warily on them. They were all dressed in uniform, like he was a prisoner they had to be ready for. He tried to hold his anxiety at bay. After all, they were the  _ Avengers _ , they’d probably already forgiven him. 

Tony Stark was front and center, a glass of whiskey in hand. “So you’re the infamous Spiderman.” He tilted his glass. “A bit greasier than I expected. A bit younger too.” 

“Yeah, I’ve had quite the night.” He tried for a weak smile but none of the Avengers dropped their stoic expressions. His heart sank. So much for optimism.

“So you’re interning then? Can’t say the Avengers have ever had an intern before.”

Peter dropped his gaze, a bit thankful that Fury hadn’t completely filled them in. That would have made quite the impression.

“The kid needs to learn.” Fury said, in a tone that booked no argument.

“After that whole Ferry Fiasco, I’m not entirely sure this kid has the capacity to learn. He’s juvenile and impulsive and irresponsible.”

“I’m really sorry about the ferry thing Mr. Stark.”

“I’m sorry, did I say you could speak? No? Because screw ups don’t get to talk.”

Peter swallowed. “It was an accident!”

“I believe I remember someone who fit that description not so long ago.” Fury interrupted with a pointed look.

Tony stared Peter down and he felt so small. “I never screwed up quite so spectacularly. Cap can show you to your room. Or, preferably, to the shower.”

Peter winced, but nodded and followed Captain America down the hallway. Steve didn’t say anything to him. Obviously Tony’s opinion of him wasn’t unique. He pointed to a door. “Your room.”

“Mr. Rogers, Sir, Captain, I’m really sorry. I know you’re all really upset, but it was an accident.” He was trying to save people. He’d been tired of stopping muggings, and helping old ladies cross the street. He was ready for something bigger, something more. And it had backfired. But he was only trying to help.

Steve was quiet for a moment. “There’s no room for accidents like those in our line of work.”

* * *

The next morning, Peter headed out to the kitchen. He figured he couldn’t hide in his room forever, and after five showers and a change of clothes (The only shirt and pajama pants in an otherwise empty drawer), he hoped the Avengers would be a bit more welcoming.

He was wrong.

Tony Stark was cooking. Pepper Potts sat on one of the couches in the corner, and a boy around his age was huddled over a book at the kitchen table. It must've been Harley, Tony's adopted son. A stab of jealousy hit Peter like a bullet. It was the most domestic moment he’d seen in a long time. He missed Ben so much. It wasn’t too long ago that Peter would have been that Harley, and Ben would’ve been Tony. He would’ve been on his way to work, a cup of coffee in hand, tired, but  _ alive. _

The boy looked up, noticing Peter for the first time. He raised an eyebrow at his Hello Kitty pajamas but otherwise didn’t mention it.

Tony removed the bacon from the stove and piled it onto a plate. Then he whirled around. “So. Peter Benjamin Parker, foster kid from Queens.”

“Did Nick Fury tell you?”

Tony shrugged. “That part. Then, I did a little digging of my own.” He tapped his finger against the table like he was moving through an imaginary checklist. “Pulls knife on first foster family.” His finger moved down the list. “Put in Juvie and attacks a guard on the first day. Released into Uncle’s custody, and years later, runs again after he’s found dead in an alleyway.”

Peter winced. “It wasn’t like that Mr. Stark.”

“Really? Because when I combine this file.” He tapped the table. “With Spiderman’s.” He tapped the table again. “I’m really not seeing much room for misunderstanding.” Peter opened his mouth to defend himself but Tony held up a finger to silence him. “You see, kid, you are in my home, with my family. If you step an inch out of line, I’ll send you straight back to where you came from.”

Peter’s eyes were wide as he looked at him. “Okay. Yeah. Of course, Mr. Stark.”

Harley was staring at him. “You were in juvie?”

Peter paused. “Yeah. Once. A long time ago.”

“What was it like?”

“Food was crap.” Peter glanced at the book Harley had open, looking to change the subject. “Chemistry?”

“Yeah.”

“I love chem.”

“Really?” Harley said condescendingly. “So there was a good science program in the juvenile detention system then?”

Peter went really quiet, his heart sank. “Yeah.” He muttered.

Tony slid a plate over to him. “We’re going to visit Bruce today, we’re going to get a little enhanced individual check up.”

“Okay.”

“Bring your suit too. I’ll wash it, since it seems like that’s a little too difficult for you.”

* * *

Bruce Banner shifted his weight. “Super healing. Interesting. Do you also have a super metabolism too?”

Peter shrugged. “I get hungry more often. So yeah, I guess. But my healing hasn’t been working too well lately. I’m healing almost as slowly as a normal person.”

“How long has this been happening?”

“A few months now. Since my Uncle died.”

“Maybe it’s grief. Your mind can be pretty powerful.” He looked thoughtful. “But I’ll look into it a little more.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Super strength, super hearing.” Bruce wrote a few things down. “How did this happen anyways?”

“Radioactive spider bite.”

Bruce stared at him. “That’s not something you hear everyday. How about I see you back here in a few weeks or so to see if your healing’s doing any better.”

Peter nodded absently. “Do you think… do you think I’m losing my abilities?”

Bruce seemed to be looking straight through Peter. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about Peter. It could be a variety of things. Lack of nutrition, lack of sleep, grief. I’m afraid the changes that spider made are in your DNA. Those types of changes are not so easily undone.”

Despite Bruce’s reassurances, Peter left the lab feeling uneasy. If his powers went away, Fury would ship him back to CPS, he’d be nothing again, helpless. He couldn’t go back to feeling like that ever again.

* * *

The Avengers and Peter were grouped together in the training facility. It was the first day of Peter’s “internship.” He wore his regular clothes, a pair of torn up jeans, a t-shirt, and his duct-taped, too-small shoes. Everyone else was in uniform.

“You need to be able to fight as Peter before you fight as Spidey.” Natasha said. 

They stood facing each other in the arena and Peter couldn’t help but feel incredibly anxious. He’d never really used just his fists to beat someone up before. He relied a lot on his webs and his surroundings, both of which were lacking.

Natasha made the first move. Sprinting at Peter and flipping through the air like a goddamn gymnast. Peter had no idea what he was doing, but he knew he had to get out of the way. He ran at the opposite wall.

He heard some of the Avengers laughing. “It’s not a game of tag, Peter!”

He’d never been very good at tag anyways. The panic in his chest spurred him on and he leapt at the wall, clinging to it and propelling himself up towards the ceiling. It was a really tall ceiling. There was no way Natasha would be able to follow him… and there she was. Clinging to the support beams and making her way to the ceiling like a machine. 

“Jesus Christ!”

Peter really wished he had his webslingers. She was directly in front of him now. She gave him a smug look before her leg came swinging around, sweeping Peter’s arms and legs out from under him.

He was falling.

Fast.

He twisted himself around midair, landing in a crouch on the ground.

He looked up just in time to see Natasha leaping from the ceiling rafters. He blinked, realizing too slow what she intended. Before he could even get to his feet, she had landed on top of him, pinning him to the ground with her legs.

She crawled off of him, greeting the Avengers’ praise with a wide grin.

Rhodey scoffed and sauntered into the arena. “Don’t feel too good about yourself just yet, Black Widow. He was easy, but you’re going against me next.”

She shrugged. “It always feels good to win. Even if it’s against a newbie.”

Peter sighed and made his way out of the ring. He was sore everywhere and his self esteem was probably somewhere beaten into the floor of the arena.

Bruce smiled at him sympathetically. “Don’t worry Peter, you’ll get there. In the meantime, you might want to get yourself some clothes you can actually move in. Those ripped jeans are doing you no favors.”

“Yeah.” Peter didn’t have the heart to tell the only Avenger who’s been nice to him, that he couldn’t afford food, much less new pants.

“Why don’t you take off early today.” Bruce suggested. “Get a drink of water. Have a snack.”

“Okay. Thanks Dr. Banner.”

He headed to the kitchen, his shoulders curved into a small slump. He wasn’t a complete moron. He knew he wasn’t nearly good enough to fight any of the Avengers, but he’d made a complete fool of himself. 

Pepper was in the kitchen when Peter walked in. “Hi, Peter. How was practice?”

“It was okay.”

She must’ve heard from his voice that it was not, in fact, okay. “You’re still learning. That’s why you’re here. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

He was actually here because he no longer had a home and he was still on the run from CPS, but she didn’t need to know that. “Yeah.”

She slid a bottle of gummy vitamins towards him. “Here, have one of these. Bruce mentioned earlier that maybe your body is having trouble fighting off an illness. He wanted you to take some supplements.”

“Okay. Thanks.” He’d always been rather fond of those chewy vitamins when he was younger. They were sort of like candy. Healthy candy.

Then her words actually processed and a seed of an idea grew in Peter’s mind. An illness that his body couldn’t fight on its own. He looked away, his brow furrowed. It had happened a long time ago. A long, long time ago. There was no way.

“Peter? Are you okay?”

He looked up and gave her an absentminded smile. “Yeah. I-I’ll be in my room. I’m tired.”

* * *

That night, he laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling, his heart filled with poison, his stomach filled with horror. A long time ago, he’d had sex with his foster brother, Skip. Unprotected sex. Before he became Spiderman. He’d never been tested, and he’d never had symptoms. But Peter’s smart, he knew not all STDs are symptomatic. He swallowed. And he thought, even though it’s unlikely, when had the universe ever been kind to him before?


	2. Two

When Peter woke up the next morning, the first thing he did was jump in the shower. He stood there, under the showerhead, warm water running down his back. His arms wrapped around his body and he closed his eyes. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time. Like Skip was still there. Like he was filthy and needed to be clean.

There was a banging at the door. “Hurry up.” Steve called. “You’ve been in there for almost an hour.”

He was? “I’ll be right out.” 

He quickly ran shampoo through his hair, and stepped out of the shower. He was just about to grab his towel when he saw his reflection in the full length mirror. He traced an old scar that wrapped around his back onto his chest. The result of a really bad belting at the group home after juvie. When Ben first saw Peter without a shirt on, he’d cried. It was the only time Peter had ever seen him cry.

_ Peter was sitting by the TV. He hadn’t left the house in a week, since Ben picked him up from the group home.  _

_ “C’mon, Peter. You need to get out of the house.” Ben marched to the closet and pulled out two towels. “We’re going to the beach.” _

_ Peter shook his head and sunk further into the couch cushions. “I don’t wanna go to the beach.” _

_ “What are you talking about? You love the water. We could go to the pool if you’d rather do that.” _

_ Peter’s eyes filled with tears and his face went red. “I’m not going to the beach, Ben!” he yelled. _

_ “Hey! Don’t talk to me like that! You need to get out of the house and I won’t take no for an answer! Go put on your swimsuit!” _

_ Peter wanted to argue, but Ben’s tone made it clear that was the end of the conversation. He stomped off to his room and slammed the door. He put his swim trunks on over his underwear, he wasn’t planning on swimming.  _

_ “Peter!” _

_ “I’m getting dressed!” _

_ He was just about to put on a white t-shirt when the door flew open. He scrambled to get the shirt over his head. _

_ Ben went still. “Peter.” The anger was gone from his voice, he sounded strange and it scared Peter. “What was that?” _

_ “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Peter sobbed. _

_ “Take off your shirt.” _

_ “No!” _

_ “Peter, take it off!” There was something scary in his voice. Fear, maybe? _

_ Peter’s face was hot and there were tears drying on his cheeks and he just wanted to hide, but he removed his shirt anyway. Ben’s eyes were wide and horrified. There was a long moment where Peter was standing there, embarrassed and fuming, and Ben was silent, just studying him. _

_ “What happened?” His voice was quiet. _

_ Peter scrubbed a palm across his eyes, smearing the tears across his face. “I was disciplined.” _

_ “Oh, Peter.” Ben sat gingerly on Peter’s bed, like he was too scared to move. Ben’s rough hand traced the ropes on Peter’s back. “Oh my God.” _

_ Peter was crying, his shoulders were slumped and he was so, so ashamed. To be seen like this by the person he loved most in the world. _

_ “Why didn’t you tell me?” _

_ Peter looked up, shocked. Ben was crying. There were tears on his face. “I thought you would be mad.” _

_ Ben wrapped the small eleven year old in a hug. “I’m not angry at you.” _

_ “Ben?” He whispered. _

_ “Yeah?” _

_ “I don’t wanna go outside. I’m scared.” _

_ Ben pulled away. “How about this? Let’s stay in and watch a movie today. But tomorrow, you’ll come shopping with me.” _

_ “Okay.”  _

_ That night, Ben bought Peter an Iron Man mask from a nearby drugstore. “So that Iron Man can be brave for you when you feel like being scared.” _

* * *

Today, all of the Avengers were at breakfast, sitting around the table like a big family. He hesitated before taking the only empty seat between Bruce and Tony. It smelled like a Saturday morning at the Parker apartment. Bacon, coffee, and pancakes. Ben had made a point of making breakfast every Saturday because home cooked meals were a rare thing. It made Peter’s heart clench in his chest.

“You were in the shower for a long time.” Tony said. It sounded almost accusatory.

Peter rubbed the back of his neck. “Er, yeah.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Bruce looking at him. “Y’know, maybe Harley has some more appropriate clothes you can borrow. For the purposes of training and all.”

Harley looked up from his breakfast, eyes wide. He didn’t say anything.

“. . . Yeah, I mean. If there are clothes you’re not using.” Peter said. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable in the clothes he’d been wearing for three days straight. There’s no way the Avengers hadn’t noticed his lack of clothing options.

“Why don’t you and Peter go back to your room after breakfast.” Pepper suggested.

“Yeah. Okay.” Harley muttered, moving the food on his plate around with his fork. He obviously didn’t like the idea of being alone with Peter.

The ringing of the landline in the kitchen cut through the growing silence. Nobody got up.

“Is anyone going to answer that?” Peter asked.

Tony took another bite of his potatoes and shrugged. “Nobody ever answers that phone.”

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want.” Peter said, picking up a pile of Harley’s old clothes.

Harley waved him off. “You obviously need them more than I do.”

Peter wanted to tell him that he hadn’t always been this way. That he had had people who loved him. That he hadn’t always been a dirt poor high school dropout. That his life was a result of bad luck and equally bad options. 

He started towards the door, then turned around again. “It wasn’t always like this. I mean… I appreciate this and all, but I had a home once. And a family. And… clothes.” Peter wanted Harley to understand. “It’s like a domino effect. I lost my Uncle, and then my family, and then- you know- things get lost in the system.” Harley looked incredibly uncomfortable, but Peter’s mouth just wouldn’t stop. “I just, I don’t want you to think I’m a pathetic child. Or… something-”

“Yeah, it’s okay. I get it.” It was more of a dismissal than an understanding.

Peter’s heart sunk. He looked at the pile of clothes in his hands. Ben hadn’t been rich by any means, but he always had clothes and food and a roof over his head. To see how far he’d fallen was the most devastating thing. And the pity and doubt in Harley’s eyes, like Peter shouldn’t have run away. He should’ve stuck with the system. Maybe Harley was right, then at least, he would have a home.

* * *

That night, after another brutal training session, Peter ended up outside, on the balcony. He wrapped his arms around himself like it would protect him from the chill. He leaned against the railing and stared out into the city. Where would he be now if he hadn’t called Fury? Dead? Was this any better?

Bruce stepped beside him, setting his forearms on the railing.

“Why does everyone hate me?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“But you’re the  _ only _ one. Maybe it’s the universe telling me I don’t deserve another chance.”

“They don’t hate you, Peter. They just don’t trust you yet.” Was that supposed to make him feel better? Bruce turned to look at Peter. “They thought Fury was crazy to trust some fifteen year old kid. And then you go and sink that ferry.”

“It was an accident. I was trying to help.”

“But you put all those people in danger, and that’s something they’re having trouble accepting.”

Peter was ashamed to find that his eyes were filling with tears. “You guys were my heroes.” He admitted.

Bruce was quiet for a moment. “I… I’m sorry. They’ll warm up to you eventually. It won’t be like this forever.”

Peter sighed. “Maybe what I did… maybe there’s no coming back from that. Maybe I really am just a screw up.” Guilt gnawed at his chest and his heart felt achingly hollow. “My Uncle was a cop. He helped people. I… I wanted to be like him.”

Bruce put a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “You should talk to Bucky.” He said.

“The Winter Soldier?” Peter didn’t think he’d heard the man speak a single word.

Bruce nodded. “He knows a whole lot about regret.”

They stood there for another few minutes, just basking in the moonlight and the bite of the dropping temperature. Bruce was the first one to give in. He headed back towards the lounge. “Have a good night, Peter.”

“Goodnight, Dr. Banner.” He whispered.

He supposed he could understand why the Avengers disliked him. The Ferry Fiasco showed he couldn’t listen. Running away was an act of childishness. He was a literal delinquent (It said so on his file), and his arrogance was not supported by talent the way Tony’s was. He  _ had  _ to prove them wrong.

* * *

When he got back to his room, his cleaned suit was laying on his bed. Tony must’ve put it there.

“Woah! Is that your suit?”

Peter spun around to see Harley in the doorway. “Yeah. It is.”

There was a moment of awkward silence. “Hey, I just wanted to say I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad or anything.”

A grin split over Peter’s face. Maybe things were starting to look up for him. “It’s fine. I get it.”

“Hey. Maybe we could… go up to the roof. Try out that suit of yours?”

“I mean… I suppose it couldn’t hurt. If you wanna see what it does.” Peter grabbed the webslingers from his bag. He had two pairs, his first prototype, and the ones he used on patrol.

He shoved the suit into a backpack, and together him and Harley made their way to the roof. It was the dead of night, and the only sounds came from the occasional nocturnal animal that somehow made its way out of some forest.

“Here.” He dropped the prototype webslingers into Harley’s hands. “Put these on.”

“This is how you make the webs? That’s so cool!”

Peter grinned. “Yeah.” He put his own webslingers on.

Harley put his hand out and a web shot from the roof of the compound. “Man! I feel like a superhero!”

Peter looked at him, a mischievous smile on his lips. “Wanna learn how to swing?”

Harley’s eyes went wide. “Yes. Yes, please.”

“I’m gonna die.”

Harley stood at the edge of the compound, dressed in Peter’s suit, his eyes on the nearby lamppost.

“You’re going to be fine.”

“What if the lamppost breaks?”

“It won’t. It’s like, solid metal. I’ve done this a million times.”

Harley let out a large breath. “Okay.” He put on the mask. “Will this suit protect me if I fall?”

“You’re not going to fall.”

“Awfully optimistic of you.” He muttered.

Harley put one foot forward and held his arm out. The web shot out and clung to the top of the lamppost and Harley gripped onto his right arm with his left.

“It’s just like being on a swing.” Peter said encouragingly. 

Then, leaning back to test the strength of the web, Harley stepped off the building. Before Peter could even register what was happening, the webslinger on Harley’s wrist snapped.

Harley was falling. And screaming. But that wasn’t the important part. The important part was that he was falling, and Peter’s heart felt like ice. He was reaching his arm out, about to catch Harley with his own webslingers, when flash of red and yellow zipped by. 

Iron Man hovered above him, holding Harley in his arms. He touched down to the roof of the compound and stepped out of the suit.

Peter swallowed and took a step back.

“Hey Spider Man.”

This was all too familiar.

* * *

“What were you thinking?!” Tony was pacing the medbay, his face pinched, while Bruce looked over Harley.

“We were just having fun.” He looked to Harley for support, but the boy wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Fun? Is that what you think superheroes do? Because you’ve made mistake after mistake after mistake and now you’re putting my family in danger too! This is crossing the line!”

“Why do you hate me so much?” Peter said, tears in his eyes, voice just slightly too loud. “Why am I not allowed to be a kid too?”

“Why are you not allowed to be a kid? You have responsibilities. Normal  _ kids  _ don’t put an entire Ferry of people in danger. If you want to be a kid so bad, why don’t you give the suit back and leave?”

Peter’s eyes burned with anger. “You know why.” He spat.

“So? Go back to your damn group home if you can’t handle it here.”

“Is that what you want? Is that why you’ve been treating me like dirt? So I’ll leave?”

“You’re not cut out to be a superhero.”

That stung.

“Superheroes don’t put people in danger. Harley could have died tonight.”

“If you hadn’t been there, I would’ve caught him. Harley was fine. He makes his own choices, I didn’t force him or anything.”

“You need to take responsibility for your actions. If you can’t grow up, I’ll have to recommend that Fury put you somewhere else. Where delinquent  _ superheroes  _ such as yourself belong.”

The Raft. He was talking about the Raft. Peter felt himself shrink back.

“Tony.” There was a note of warning in Bruce’s voice.

Peter stood up quickly. He needed to get out of there. All he could think about was how disappointed Ben would be. He headed towards the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Tony’s voice was sharp and Peter cringed.

“I need to take a walk. I have to get out of here.”

“You don’t  _ need  _ to do anything.”

Bruce rested a hand on Tony’s shoulder to quiet him. “Be home in a few hours.”

When he looked up to meet Bruce’s gaze, Peter’s eyes glittered like broken glass. This wasn’t his home. The Avengers weren’t his family. By the look on Bruce’s face, he knew that too. The compound was a poor supplement for something he used to have. Everyone else might have forgotten, but Peter didn’t: he had a home once. He knew what it felt like. And this place was no home.


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, this chapter is pretty heavy. Read the tags before moving on. School has just started and I'm taking a lot of difficult classes so I'll try to continue updating weekly, but I might slip occasionally.

Peter skipped breakfast that morning. He wasn’t brave enough to sit down next to Tony or Harley and pretend like everything was fine. Instead he hid in his room, claiming illness when Steve knocked on his door, and waited until training started when he knew everyone would be occupied. Then, he slipped out the front door, heading to the nearest subway.

The metro felt more like home than the Avengers Compound. The smell of hot musk and years of filth, it was comforting actually. Peter tapped his foot impatiently. Finally, the metro squealed to a stop. Peter jumped to his feet, catching himself at the last second as the train settled. He pushed through throng of people, hurrying out into the daylight. He needed to get to the clinic before it closed and before the Avengers realized he was gone.

He hovered around the corner from the clinic, gathering his courage. He had never been so nervous in his life. Adrenaline coursed through his veins.

“Okay, Peter,” He muttered to himself. “You got this.” With that, he dashed around the building and into the free clinic, his heart pounding wildly.

He walked over to the front desk and did his best to smile warmly-- and not nervously-- at the receptionist. “Er, I’m Peter-”

She didn’t look up from her computer, but she slid a clipboard over to him. “Fill this out, we’ll call you when we’re ready.”

He looked at the others in the waiting room uncertainly. “How long’s the wait?”

She looked at him like he was stupid. “Thirty minutes.” She drawled.

“Okay.” He said, face flushed. “Thanks.”

He sat in the back corner of the room, scanning to make sure there was nobody in the waiting room that he knew. It was unlikely, he’d purposefully chosen a clinic far away from both the compound and his old schools. Once he was sure he was safe, he pulled his knees up to his chest and began filling out the forms.

There wasn’t much else to do in the waiting room except worry. And as the time ticked by, his nerves heightened. He tapped his foot impatiently on the scuffed linoleum floor. All he could think about was the Avengers. What if they finished early and noticed him gone? An old lady that was sitting opposite him gave him a short smile and reached into her handbag.

“Mint?” She held it out for him to take.

He took one. “Thanks.” It was surprisingly calming to have something to focus on other than a potentially life changing illness.

The door to the back of the clinic opened and Peter’s heart sped up. “Peter Parker?”

He stood quickly and followed the nurse into the back. The air smelled of antiseptic. He hated it. It smelled like a hospital, and he hadn’t had many good memories in a hospital. The nurse snapped on her blue gloves and removed a little swab form her kit.

“Okay, Peter. Here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to test you for all the basics. This one is the ELISA. If you test positive for it, you’ll have to come back in for confirmation. Does that make sense?”

Peter nodded. “Yes.”

“Good. This won’t take long.

The nurse was kind as she finished packaging her tests. “Alright, hun, is there a phone number that we can call once the tests are finished?” She pulled her blue gloves off and threw them in the trash.

“Er, yes.” Peter dug through his pocket. There it was, the number to the kitchen landline that nobody used. He didn’t have a cell phone, he hadn’t bothered to replace the burner he used to call Fury. Not that he had the money in the first place.

“Thanks so much. And hun.” She gave him a sympathetic once over. “Are you certain you don’t want to contact the police?”

Peter went ice cold, even as his heart picked up speed. He stood quickly. “It wasn’t- it’s not like that.”

“Well, if you change your mind, we have resources on our website and posted out front.”

“Thank you so much for your help. Really.”

“Of course. You can expect a call in a week or so.”

* * *

Peter was ashamed to admit that he’d been on edge all week. Waiting. He spent as much time in the kitchen as possible, just praying there would be a call with good news. He even skipped training a few days to sit at the kitchen counter, waiting for that phone to ring. It rang three times that week, none of them for him.

He tried telling himself how unlikely it was. He’d never displayed any symptoms and it had been how many years since… since Skip. When that didn’t help, he tried distracting himself. He ended up in Manhatten most nights, stopping petty crimes until sunrise when he collapsed into his bed at the Compound. His lack of sleep drained him; he was only getting worse at training. But it kept his mind off of what he didn’t want to think about, so really, Peter had no option. 

It was halfway through the second week when news finally arrived.

Tony was waiting for him when Peter woke up. He was leaning over the kitchen table. There was no breakfast. No smell of coffee. No Harley or Pepper or anyone else. Just Tony. Alone. That’s how Peter knew he was in trouble.

He tried to ignore the rising nausea in his gut. “Good morning, Mr. Stark.”

“Yeah, what a good morning. I woke up, ready for a productive day in my lab, make a few charitable donations. And you know what happens?” He paused. “I get a call.” His eyes met Peter’s. They’re hard and angry. “I was going to ignore it at first. Pepper’s the one who does the phone calls. Then I see exactly who’s calling. A goddamn free clinic.”

Peter’s heart dropped, he felt so hollow inside. “Mr. Stark-“

“No. You zip it! I didn’t sign up to be Fury’s babysitter! And this is what I have to deal with? STDs?” Peter opened his mouth to say something else but Tony cut him off. “Yes, Parker, you actually managed to contract an STD.”

“What do I have?” Peters throat was dry and his voice came out hoarse. He thought there was a strong possibility that his poor heart would give out just then.

“HIV.”

Peter couldn’t breathe. Skip had given him HIV? His vision blurred. “Are you sure?”

“They want you to go in and take another test to confirm. Banner can do it here in the medbay.”

“I might not have it?”

“You probably have it. Lucky for you, Banner thinks with your abilities, a steady intake of medication and you’ll be fine.” Mr. Stark was silent for a moment. Then he slammed his fist on the counter, making Peter flinch. “How could you be so stupid? By some miracle, you managed to gain powers that could rid you of this infection. But the rest of the world isn’t so lucky. I hope you have to live with this the rest of your life. So that you could see that what you do has consequences!” His voice went really low and quiet. “But you will, of course, have to contact all the people you had sex with.”

Peter’s face lost all color. “Mr. Stark-“

“This isn’t up for discussion. Your recklessness could cost someone everything.”

“Mr. Stark, listen to me!”

His body went dangerously still. “No. You listen to me. You will make a list.” He slid a pad of paper across the table. “And you’ll have five minutes to get dressed. Then, you and I will take a trip downtown.”

Peters hand trembled as he reached for the pen. “Please-“

“I don’t want to hear your excuses!”

“It’s just… it was only one person. They had to have given it to me, so we don’t have to… do this.”

“Not how it works. You think I’m going to let some ignorant kid run loose in New York with an STD? No Peter, I’m an adult. Adults have responsibilities, you wouldn’t know.”

Peter’s hand shook, his legs felt weak. “Westcott’s the last name.”

“And the address?”

“I can’t remember, but I know how to get there.”

They drove in uncomfortable silence, Peter breaking it every once in a while to tell the driver, Happy, which way to turn. Even staring out the window, Peter could see Tony’s scowl in his peripheral vision.

Peter was hoping Tony would wait outside, so that he could face Skip alone. No such luck, the billionaire insisted on going with to make sure he didn’t chicken out.

He knocked on the door to Skip’s apartment. Maybe he wasn’t home. Maybe he moved. But the door opened, and Skip was there. 

Peter couldn’t bring himself to exhale. All the words were trapped in his throat.

“Peter?”

When it was obvious Peter wasn’t going to say anything, Tony stepped forward. “I’m Tony. Peter has something to say. Can we come in?” It was the most civil thing he’d said all day, and even then, his voice was clipped and dangerous.

Skip glanced suspiciously from Peter to Tony. “Sure. Come in.”

They took a seat on Skip’s disgusting green couches. Peter wanted to throw up, the smell of his house, the color of the couch, everything made Peter want to cry. How unlucky was he that Skip lived in the same house, how unlucky that Skip’s parents had died and left Peter to face this nightmare of a house right then. It seemed like everything in the world was against him in that moment.

“Peter has something to say to you and your daughter.”

Skip paused. “You must be mistaken. I don’t have any children.”

Tony looked at Peter accusingly. “Is that right.”

Peter looked up at Skip, his eyes rimmed red. “I have HIV.” He murmured.

Skip was still.

“So... you have it too.”

Tony looked up. Confusion and then understanding dawned on his face. He looked over to Skip quickly. “You? How old are you?”

“We had sex a long time ago.” Skip said, eyes wide and defensive. “We were both underage.”

Tony’s nostrils flared. He looked at Peter like he was the most disgusting thing he’d ever seen. “Time to go kid.” He was angry. At Peter. Maybe Tony thought Skip was younger than he actually was.

Peter swallowed his shame, following Tony to the car and feeling more and more like a burden.

They sat there. Side by side, in tense silence.

“I just don’t understand you! Sleeping with older men? What, so you’re gay? Or just craving attention?”

Peter wanted to die. “‘M not gay.”

“So what? Connect some dots for me.”

Peter could tell him all about it. About how Skip pressed his face into that ugly green couch and used him. About how disgusting he felt afterward. Suddenly, there was so much anger in Peter’s body, it shoved all the shame to some back corner of his mind. “I was young okay! I didn’t know! Why is everything my fault?!”

“Because choosing to have unprotected sex with someone was your choice! And it was a stupid one! And you don’t take responsibility for your actions!”

“It wasn’t my choice!” Peter yelled. His jaw trembled, and the anger disappeared. “It wasn’t my choice.” He was quiet now. 

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re smart.” Peter spat. “I think you can figure it out.” Bitter tears fell from his lashes.

“No I… I can’t.”

“I was eight.”

“So you were experimenting.” But Tony’s words were hollow, reaching for a more palatable theory.

“Skip was sixteen.”

Tony swallowed. “Okay.” His voice was scarily monotonous and Peter wished he would yell again. Tony opened the car door.

“Where are you going?”

“He belongs in prison.”

“No. Mr. Stark please!”

“What do you want from me!”

Peter shrunk back.

“Because you tell me something like this, and what? I’m supposed to feel sorry for you and let it go? Well I won’t, Parker! I won’t let you play the martyr and I sure as hell won’t pity you!”

Peter’s heart ached and he felt very, very tired. “He has videos of me.” He whispered. “He’ll put them online if I go to the police. Mr. Stark, I can’t… I can’t have people see me like that.”

He shut the car door and sighed. There was a long silence. “I’m sorry, kid.” He sounded resigned, not sympathetic, but accepting. 

“Why?”

“I just. I imagine if it had been Harley…”

“You think it would’ve been horrible if it had happened to him.”

“. . . Yeah.”

Peter pressed his lips together. He wished there was someone who cared that much about him. There was, he reminded himself, his parents, his uncle, and they’re all dead. He had his chance. And he lost it.

* * *

After Bruce performed the Western Blot to confirm the diagnosis, Peter still held out hope that somehow his spider bite would save him from a lifetime of medication.

Bruce looked over Peter’s stats on the monitor. “How long ago did you first have sex?”

Peter flushed. “Erm… eight, almost nine.” This was not how he imagined the day would go when he first woke up. 

Bruce looked over at him. Not shocked, but his face was wrinkled with worry. “I know Tony was probably pretty hard on you, but you should know this wasn’t your fault. Nobody thinks it was.”

“Yeah.” He said quietly.

Bruce sat down in a chair, so that Peter, who was laying in a bed, was taller than him. “Here’s the deal, Peter. You probably progressed from stage one to stage two when you were nine. That’s the asymptomatic stage.”

“I got the flu really bad right after my ninth birthday.” It had been a strange sort of sickness, but the Westcotts wouldn’t take him to the docter unless his fever spiked to 105.

“That probably wasn’t the flu, but stage one symptoms. After that you went untreated for five years.”

Peter swallowed. “That sounds bad.”

“It is.” Bruce admitted. “You were likely pretty close to developing AIDS, but then you were bitten by that spider and your abilities pretty much pushed the disease back. That didn’t last forever though, and after your uncle died, the disease began to progress again. The reason your healing abilities haven’t been what they used to be is because it’s been fighting this disease.”

“Okay. What does this mean for me?”

“You’re incredibly lucky, Peter. That spider bite is probably the only way you avoided AIDS. It’ll be easier to fight this disease now. You’ll be taking ordinary HIV medication to keep your T-cell count up. That way, your body can go back to it’s unnatural super healing ways.”

“Will it… ever go away?”

“We can’t be sure. With your abilities it’s possible. But unlikely. You’ll probably be taking this medication for the rest of your life.”

Peter’s breath hitched.

“But HIV these days isn’t what it used to be. You’ll live as long as any ordinary enhanced person.”

Peter took the plastic bottles of pills from Bruce.

“This one is daranauvir, that one is cobicistat. Take each of them once a day with food. I’d suggest breakfast.”

Peter stared at the bottles; his eyes swam with unshed tears and he couldn’t read the label on the bottle, but he stared desperately at it so that he didn’t have to look at Bruce. Every breakfast, he would have to take these pills, these horrible reminders of what Skip did to him. For the rest of his life. He blinked and a tear fell onto his cheek.

“You’re going to be okay, Peter.” Bruce said softly.

He wiped his eyes quickly and stood up from the bed. “Yeah. I know.” He fought so hard to keep his voice sounding normal, but he couldn’t quite hold back the tremor. “Thanks Dr. Banner.” He was out the door before he could hear the reply.

* * *

Peter tried to act normal. He sleep walked through the rest of the week, going through the motions of life without a semblance of passion. He started bringing food to his room in the mornings, too embarrassed to be taking his medication in front of the Avengers. Tony wouldn’t look him straight in the eyes anymore, he barely even spoke to him at all. If it was horrible having his childhood hero hate him, it was worse having him pretend he didn’t exist.

Peter padded into the common area in his Hello Kitty pajamas, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He stopped in his tracks. The room was empty, except for Tony typing away at his laptop. Peter stepped in his peripheral vision and Tony’s fingers faltered for just a second before tapping away again.

“I dealt with Westcott.” Tony said.

Peter’s heart dropped. “What?”

“I hacked his computer, sent the videos to a judge friend of mine. Pulled a few strings. Westcott’s in prison for twenty years.” His tone was cautious, Tony knew this wasn’t what Peter wanted.

“That’s… not how it works. Where’s the trial? The news?”

“I dealt with it. The Tony Stark way.”

Peter’s voice shook. “And the videos?”

“Gone. There’s one copy and it’s in SHIELD’s evidence locker.”

“I didn’t want them out.” Peter was struggling to contain his emotions. “I didn’t want a judge to look at them. I didn’t want them in an evidence locker for people to steal and watch. They were safer on Skip’s computer!”

“I blurred out your face. Nobody knows it’s you.”

“That’s not the- wait.” Peter’s face was getting hotter and hotter as the conversation progressed. “Did you… look at them?”

“I only saw the file image. FRIDAY concealed your face. I’m not a pedophile, Peter, I wasn’t watching your sex tapes.” 

Peter pushes back his shame. “You had no right. Those tapes were of me. I didn’t want them released, and I certainly didn’t want you seeing them.”

“God, Peter.” Tony was angry now. “You’re so selfish. Did you not stop and think that maybe, maybe, Skip had other victims? That you could’ve stopped him from hurting more people? No? Because you only think of yourself!”

Those words hit hard. Peter had, in fact, thought about that. He’d spent many nights awake, too guilty to sleep. “What if it was Harley?”

Tony blinked. He seemed taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“What if Skip did to Harley what he did to me? Would you have released those tapes without permission?”

“It’s different.”

“Why? Because he’s your son? Because he has a life and people to lose if any of it got out? It wasn’t my fault, Mr. Stark. I didn’t ask for any of this to happen.”

Tony dropped his gaze and Peter felt a tinge of satisfaction. “I know what he did to you was messed up. I know it wasn’t your fault. But I knew what he did to you, and I couldn’t just let him keep living the way he was. I had to.”

Peter felt his anger drain away. Tony was wrong. What he did was wrong. But Peter couldn’t find the energy in him to be mad anymore. He was just tired. And sad. He wished none of it had ever happened, but life didn’t work that way. 

He bowed his head and took his breakfast to his room. He ate alone on his bed as the Avengers woke up and joined Tony at the table. He blinked away tears and yellowed memories as jovial laughter echoed from the other room. Pepper kissed Harley on the forehead and Tony on the lips and Peter washed down his pills with flat soda and stale toast.


	4. Four

It was early on Monday, Harley had already left for school. Peter was ashamed to admit that he’d slept in until eleven. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and pushed himself out of bed, it was getting more and more difficult to remove himself from his nest of blankets every day he was at the Compound; maybe it spoke about his-- albeit small-- growing comfort. (Or maybe he was just getting lazier). His mind was still a bit foggy as he stumbled into the lounge. Steve, Bruce, Tony, and Natasha were all circled around something on the kitchen table.

“I thought I told you.” Pepper called for the couch. “No inventions on the dining table.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tony said absentmindedly. “I know. And it’ll be gone in a minute.”

Nobody paid much attention as Peter brewed himself a cup of coffee. He dumped in about a cup of sugar and filled the rest of the mug with milk. 

“You see,” Tony explained to the others, “what it should do is produce enough power to charge a suit on the go. And it is producing that energy, see here, but the energy isn’t charging this battery like I want it to.”

“So your problem is transfer?”

“Yes. But I’ve checked it a million times. It should be just fine.”

“Have you tried turning it off and back on?”

“Shut the fuck up, Cap.”

Peter took another sip of coffee, watching from the corner of his eye as Tony tried transferring the energy again.

“Your issue isn’t the transfer.” Peter said nonchalantly. “It’s the containment. You didn’t seal it correctly with lead so the radiation from the particle accelerator is escaping into the air.” He took another sip of coffee. “So you better turn that off before the radiation reacts with the carbon in the air and blows up this whole compound.”

Everyone went really quiet. Tony stared at the energy containment module. “Impossible, I sealed it myself…” He blinked at the side Peter was looking at and prodded at the metal exterior. “FRIDAY, shut off the energy transfer prototype.” He looked up at Peter. “How did you know?”

Peter shrugged, still a bit groggy from sleep. “I read.”

“Man, Tony.” Bruce Banner said. “We got ourselves a kid genius.”

Tony was still watching Peter incredulously. “Okay, kid. So you’re smart.”

“I’m observant.”

“You’re a mini-Stark.” Steve muttered. Tony slapped him in the arm.

“I’m not Mr. Stark.”

“Where do you go to school?” Tony asked.

“Erm… I don’t.”

“Uh, yes you do. FRIDAY tracks every movement in and out of the Compound. You leave during school hours.”

“Yeah. For patrol. I dropped out of high school.”

“Since when?”

“Since forever. I dropped out last year when I ran from my last home.”

“No. Not acceptable.” Tony started. “Every kid in the Compound goes to school.” Peter didn’t point out there were only two kids in the Compound.

“Well I don’t. To the state, I’m technically still a runaway. And because of my record, I won’t have another chance; they’ll ship me back to juvie for running away.”

Bruce looked at Tony. “He’s right.”

“I’m heading to the library.” Peter downed the rest of his mug.

* * *

Peter ended up not even going inside the library. He was so close to his old apartment with Ben. So close to the life he used to have with him, and something magnetic pulled him in the direction of the Forest Hills Cemetery. He stopped by a small market for a small thing of flowers. 

There was someone sitting in front of his parents’ grave when Peter got to the cemetery. He stopped for a moment, maybe he was in the wrong place. But he knew where he was, he visited them often when he lived with Ben. He started towards her.

“Hello?”

The girl looked up, squinting a little in the sunlight. Her eyes seemed to widen just slightly and she shot to her feet. “Hi.”

“I’m uh… Peter… Peter Parker.” He stressed the last name and gave a little glance at the gravestone.

She coughed out an uncomfortable laugh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know… I’m uh… I live over there.” She pointed over to an apartment complex nearby. “I cut through here on my way to school.”

“Yeah? That doesn’t exactly explain-”

“Yeah, I know.” She said quickly. “It’s just, nobody ever really came to visit. I thought… I don’t know what I thought really.”

“There must be a million graves here without visitors.”

“I’ve uh, I’ve seen you before. With an older man.” Peter’s heart jolted at the mention of Uncle Ben. “And I guess, I was trying to fill in while you were gone… or… something…” She trailed off, looking incredibly uncertain.

“I’ve been caught up.” Peter felt the need to defend himself. This girl knew nothing about him, she had no right to judge.

“I’m not accusing you or anything. I just thought maybe, Richard and Mary Parker over here would enjoy a little company.” She seemed to be gaining her confidence back.

Peter wanted to be angry. But he couldn’t find it in himself. He just wanted a little bit of peace for once. He sat down in the grass and they’re silent for a moment. Then, the girl sat down next to him. A little hesitant at first, but she leaned into the grass when Peter didn’t yell at her.

“Who were they to you?” Her voice was barely a whisper. Almost indistinguishable from the whistle of the wind.

“My parents.” Peter’s throat felt tight, but he knew he wouldn’t cry. He hadn’t cried over his parents in a long time.

“I’m sorry.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. It’s okay? It wasn’t. He settles for, “Me too.”

“Can you tell me about them?”

He looked at this girl, this person who sat next to them and wondered about them like she knew they were once real people with real lives. “I can’t remember a lot.” He admitted. “I was eight when they died. But they were always very happy. I remember that. Being happy.” He didn’t want to say that the feeling was so unfamiliar now, that when the occasional bit of happiness did come by, it felt nostalgic and wrong, like it belonged in the past. 

They were there for some time when the girl finally said something else. “Hey.” The girl squinted at him. “Do you wanna, like, get food or something?”

Peter’s eyes widened.

“Not like a date.” She clarified. “Just… food?”

He hesitated. “I don’t have any money.” 

The girl stood to her full height. “That’s okay. I do.”

Then she started walking, leaving Peter no choice but to follow after her. It was the first time he’d been out with someone his own age in a really long time. Maybe ever. He hadn’t had many friends when he lived with Ben. But this girl seemed to be even more awkward than him. It made him feel more comfortable.

They ended up in a coffee shop. One of the crappy ones with the filth stained windows and off smell. It was part of the New York experience, the girl said.

They sat across from each other. Peter with his hot chocolate and the girl with her coffee.

“Where do you go to school?” The girl asked.

Peter hesitated for a second. He probably wouldn’t see this girl ever again after today. What would the harm be to finally tell the truth for once.

“I’m between schools right now.”

“Like… when people say they’re between homes when they actually don’t have one?”

Peter shrugged. “Yeah. I guess I’ve dropped out. If I ever have the chance though, I’ll go back to school. I’d like to get my GED and go to college somewhere. Study engineering.” He was a little embarrassed at how that sounded, but the girl looked genuinely interested.

“I go to a science and technology school. But I’m really interested in the humanities. Psychology, history, literature, that stuff.”

“That’s really cool.” Peter looked down at his mug. Jealousy gnawed at him. He’d thrown away his future running away like he did. He knew that.

She seemed to read his mind. “Hey. High school isn’t the only path to get a degree.”

“I know. Can I be very honest though? I really miss chemistry.”

The girl let out a surprised laugh. “That’s what you miss the most? Chemistry? Peter, you’re a nerd.”

Peter shrugged. “What can I say?”

The girl slurped her coffee. “How come you dropped out if you like school so much?”

Peter blinked. She really had no qualms about invasive questions. “I’m in the foster system.” Not technically the truth, but close enough. “It got too difficult.”

“That sucks.”

Peter breathed out a laugh. “Yeah. It does.”

They finished their drinks and went to stand out on the sidewalk. They crammed up close to the window of the coffee shop to avoid the New York crowds. 

“It was nice talking to you. It’s been awhile since I’ve really talked to someone my own age.”

The girl avoided his gaze and stared up at the sky where gray clouds were coming in from Rhode Island. “This is it, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I won’t see you again.”

“Probably not.”

She sighed. “Well, it’s been fun Peter Parker. I wish you luck on your way to your engineering degree.”

“Thank you.”

She turned around and disappeared into the crowd, curly brown hair bouncing in waves along her back. Peter watched her vanish into the sea of people, realizing only then that he never got her name.

* * *

When Peter arrived back at the Compound, the Avengers were sitting around the table in relative silence. It was eerie. Peter’s first thought was that someone had died.

“Is there something wrong?”

They glanced around at each other, like they were debating who had to speak. Tony stood. “Look Peter. We did a little group vote. And we think you aren’t really cut out for this internship thing.”

Peter went really really cold all of a sudden. “Mr. Stark, I’m not really here because of an internship.” He choked out a nervous laugh. “I’m here because I have nowhere else to go.”

“It’s not really working out.” Tony didn’t seem the least bit sorry.

“What do you mean it’s not working out? I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“We think it would serve you better to be in foster care.”

Peter recoiled. “No. I won’t- no. Kick me out if you want, but I will never go back.”

“You need an education, Peter. A life.” Bruce tried. 

“You agreed to this too?”

“It was unanimous.” Tony said bluntly. “Except for Barnes over there, but he doesn’t really count. He’s more of the Compound pet; pets don’t get votes.”

Peter’s eyes watered. “You can’t do this. You can’t throw me out like I’m trash. I haven’t done anything.”

“Kid. We’re not throwing you out. We’re more like, displacing you.” Natasha smacked Tony on the side of his arm. “We’re giving you a better chance.” He corrected.

A gutteral sound escaped Peter’s throat. All he could remember was how hellish it had been to be in the system. “How can you possibly think it’s better there?”

“You’ll get to go back to school. Make friends. Have a life. The superhero life doesn’t really suit you, but if you get your diploma, you could make a fantastic scientist.”

“You can’t understand.” Peter muttered. “You can’t understand just how dehumanizing it was to be there.”

“There are a lot of kids in foster care. Why do you think you’re entitled to something they aren’t.”

“Tony. This wasn’t what we talked about.” Bruce warned.

But the damage was done and Peter wiped furiously at his eyes to keep the tears from getting too far. “Mr. Stark, please.”

“It your best shot.” Bruce said. “You can have a life.” Deep down, Peter knew Bruce was only thinking about what would be best, but he could only feel betrayed. Like his only ally had turned against him.

“No.” Peter snapped. “If you send me back, I’ll die. I know it.”

“Don’t be dramatic.” Tony said.

Peter could remember just how long it took him to recover when Ben finally picked him up. He didn’t think he was strong enough to do it again.

He wanted them to see just how horrible it was. But the physical scars on his torso in no way measured up to the mental torture he’d endured. Logically, he knew that not all foster homes were bad. But with the Parker luck, he was bound to end up in a home just as bad as his previous ones, if they didn’t send him back to juvie.

“You don’t understand.” Peter tried again. “They hit me. And starve me. And… I can’t go back.” He had to hope that was enough. All he needed was Bruce to change his mind, then the decision wouldn’t be unanimous. Then he could stay.

It wasn’t Bruce who changed his mind.

“Okay.” Steve acquised and all the Avengers looked at him, startled, they must have agreed not to back down no matter what Peter said. Thank God for Steve’s golden heart. “But if you stay, you have to prove that you can handle it.”

Tears blurred Peter’s vision. “Of course. Thank you Captain Rogers. I won’t let you down.”

He scampered off to his room, feeling so, so worthless. He was already through the doorway when he realized someone was following him.

He turned around. “Mr. Barnes?”

“I get it.” His voice was so soft Peter wasn’t sure he’d heard him correctly.

“What?”

“I get it. When I first came here, nobody liked me. Tony wanted me dead. And I knew what I’d done was wrong but he wouldn’t forgive me.”

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t give up. Eventually Tony got used to me, and his hatred grew weaker with every moment he came to know me.”

“I don’t know what I need to do.”

“Just don’t give up yet. They’ll warm up to you eventually. It just takes time.”

Peter didn’t want to say that they didn’t seem very warm to Bucky either.

“Okay.”

Bucky gave him a small nod and the hint of a smile and walked off down the hallway. At least that was one more person on his side. Ever since the Harley incident, Tony had been colder than usual. Peter needed all the support he could get, even if it was from a man as outcast as himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been swamped with school. AP Chem is hellish. Updates will probably be later now, more like every two to three weeks instead of once a week.


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, I'm so sorry, it's been months. I got myself a job, I'm struggling in all of my classes, and finals are next week. But this is my best method of procrastination because I feel like I'm accomplishing something. Also this probably has tons of typos and stuff, I don't really have the time to edit, but here it is anyways: Chapter 5.

You can’t check out books unless you have a card.” The librarian said, her face pinched in a perpetual scowl.

“I have one. Just not on me.” Peter promised. “Can you look it up?”

The lady grunted and clicked around on her ancient computer. “Card number?”

“I um… I forget.”

She sighed. “Okay. Name? I hope that isn’t too difficult to remember.”

“Er, Peter Parker.”

She scrolled. “Okay, Peter Parker.” She paused and squinted at the screen. “You’ll… have to renew your membership. Why don’t you sit down over there and complete the form.”

Peter pursed his lips but decided not to argue. “Okay.” He took the paper and a little golf pencil and went to sit by the computers.

He was almost finished filling out a new membership form when a shadow fell over him. He looked up. Two police officers hovered above him, their faces stern, postures stiff. Peter swallowed and looked over at the librarian who was watching from her desk. She was obviously the one who called them. Had they flagged his account? That was a bit excessive, wasn’t it?

“Peter Benjamin Parker. Why don’t you come with us?”

He glanced at the stack of books he’d wanted to check out and then glanced at the exit the officers were blocking. If he used his powers to escape his secret identity would be compromised. “I was just about to learn about nanotechnology in cancer research. Can I rain check?”

“You don’t have a choice. You can come willingly, or we can make you.”

He was so screwed.

* * *

Peter hated the juvenile detention system. They turned out his pockets and put everything in a plastic bag then escorted him into a private room. There were two men standing against the wall.

“Remove your clothing.”

“C’mon. I’m not hiding anything. I’m a runaway. Not a druggie or a murderer. I’m not violent.”

“Your file says otherwise, kid. Just cooperate and this’ll go a lot easier.”

Peter pulled off his shirt, and then his jeans. His heart felt as if it would fail, his breath was stuck in his throat and fear heated his cheeks. With shaking hands he dropped his boxers.

The Officer ran his hands over Peter’s clothing, his fingers checking the seams to ensure nothing was hidden there. Once he was satisfied he turned his attention back to Peter.

“You know how this goes right? Run your fingers through your hair.”

Peter furiously shook his hair out. He just wanted this to be over. At least this officer wasn’t touching him. Being naked like this reminded him all too much of how vulnerable he’d felt with Skip. A high pitched noise escaped him.

The second officer, who’d been spacing out, glanced up at him. Something in his eyes betrayed a sort of sympathy. “Chill out kid. You’re okay.”

He couldn’t help the tears that rose to his eyes, or the trembles that racked his body.

“Open your mouth. Move your tongue around.”

Peter did. He squeezed his eyes shut and ignored the cold tear that slipped down his cheek.

“Pull your ears forward and turn your head.” The second officer took over, stepping forward. “How old are you?”

Peter obeyed. “Fifteen.”

“Tilt your head back. So you must still be in school?”

“Not really.”

“Not really? Lift up your arms.”

“I teach myself at the library. I dropped out of high school, but I’d still like to go to college.”

“Open your legs. What would you like to study?”

Peter’s lungs were tight and another tear fell from his eyelash. He took a deep breath and widened his stance. “Chemistry.” It came out strained.

“Relax. We’re way over here and we’re not going to move as long as you cooperate. What’s your favorite part about chemistry? Lift up your penis.”

Peter tried to remind himself that this was a whole lot better than them doing it for him. “I like the applications of chemistry in nanotechnology and biomed. Chemistry makes up everything.”

“Peter, cooperate please.”

He blinked hard and reached down. “You can solve so many problems with chemistry.” His voice was tight.

“Turn around. Squat and cough. Is that what you want to do, solve problems?”

Peter was full on crying now. His vision was blurry and he was too scared to turn his back on the two grown men in the room. There was no reason for him to be scared. He knew that. He knew it was almost over, but the idea of not being able to see where they were in the room terrified him. He was reminded of the videos Skip made him watch. With the men in the jumpsuits and the things they did together.

“Peter, we aren’t moving”

He shook his head, sobbing weakly.

“Peter, why do you want to solve problems?”

He turned around, feeling so, so exposed. His legs were shaking and he steadied himself against the wall. “I want to make sure people are safe. I want everyone to have a fair shot.” He leaned over and coughed.

When he turned back around they were where they were before. The second officer tossed him a jumpsuit and his boxers. “Put this on.”

The first officer stared at him, a disturbed scowl on his face, the second only seemed tired, worn with age and too many kids coming through with the same stories written all over them in scars and panic attacks. Peter was only one of thousands.

* * *

“I want a phone call.”

The guards in the hallway ignored him.

“I know my rights. This isn’t my first time. I’m allowed two phone calls.”

“Yeah. And who’re you going to call? No parents, no guardian, no lawyer.”

“Just give me my phone call.”

Peter sat down at the cold metal table and punched in the first number still fresh in his mind. It rang and rang. He thought for sure nobody would pick up and he’d have to resort to getting Nick Fury to bail him out.

“Hello?” Tony’s voice came clear through the speaker.

Peter wanted to break down and cry, he’d never been so happy to hear his voice. “Hi, Mr. Stark.”

“Any particular reason why this call is from a juvenile detention center?”

“I was at the library. My name must’ve been flagged. They arrested me.”

“Jesus, kid.”

Peter blinked away tears. “Please get me out of here.” The first time he’d been in juvie they hadn’t been so nice about the strip search, the cold walls and stone floor were all too reminiscent of then.

Maybe Tony could head the panic in his voice, because he didn’t argue or fight or scold Peter for being too careless. “I’m on my way.”

* * *

_ Peter was ten and he’d just been arrested. They took him screaming from the Westcott’s house and put him in some square room with no windows and three big scary men that looked just like the men in Skip’s videos. He scratched and fought and screamed but they wouldn’t let up. _

_ One of the men tied him down to a gurney. _

_ “Jesus. Calm down.” _

_ One of them put his hand in Peter’s hair, like Skip did sometimes, at night. _

_ “Noo! No!” _

_ They pried open his jaw and Peter bit the man. _

_ “Fuck!” _

_ And then the feeling of something creeping between his thighs. But he was strapped down and the man had removed his fingers from Peter’s mouth and there was nothing he could do but scream and cry. _

_ “Fuck. Look at him.” He choked out a sort of laugh. “He’s all loose. Someone’s fucked him.” _

_ “Jesus. It looks bad.” One of the others said. “Maybe torn. Should we get a medic?” _

_ “God no. Look, he’s not bleeding. Raising any attention will just cause more problems than it’s worth.” _

_ “I don’t know…” _

_ “We’re doing the kid a favor.” The first insisted. “You think anyone will listen to a ten year old problem child over a nice well to do middle class family? No. Keeping him out of the press is the best thing we can do.” _

_ Peter barely felt it when the man stuck his finger inside of him. _

_ “When he’s older he’ll thank us.” _

* * *

“There must be something.” Tony insisted.

The social worker put up his hands. “I’m sorry. But Peter has a record and a history of running away. Group homes won’t take him unless he’s served some time as rehabilitation.”

“What about foster families?” Tony asked. “There must be plenty.”

“I won’t go back.” Peter interjected. “I’d rather rot in a cell than go back in the system.”

“Shut up, Parker.” Tony hissed.

“We’re short on families anyway. There’s nothing to be done.”

Peter wilted and stared at the ugly orange of his jumpsuit.

“Cheer up.” The social worker said. “It’s only three months. After that, you’re out.”

“Then where will I go?” Peter muttered. 

“A group home probably.”

Peter’s eyes burned as he struggled to hold in tears. His bottom lip trembled desperately. All he could think of was the terrible bite of leather on his back, the snap of his skin tearing open. Peter must have made some sort of sound because Tony sighed.

“Wait.” Tony said. “What if… what if I fostered him?” He seemed to cringe at the very idea.

“It… could work. If you vouch for him. But your house would need to be up to code.”

“It is.”

“And this doesn’t mean Peter’s in the clear. He’d have to meet with a judge and discuss community service or bail. You signing the right documents only keeps him out of detention for the time being.”

“It’s fine. I’ll sign.”

Peter looked up, “Mr. Stark-“

“Just give me the papers before I change my mind.”

The social worker flushed. “We do have to do routine checks. We have to make sure everything at your home is suitable.”

“I’m Tony Stark.”

“Everyone has to go through the checklist, Mr. Stark.” Her voice was firm. And that was that. “It usually takes months to approve someone for foster care. But we can expedite this to three weeks.”

Peter sucked in a breath. That seemed so long.

“Can we do it in two?” Tony asked.

“We can try our best.”

“I want him out of here too. Put him in a group home at the very least.”

“He’ll have to get a judge’s permission first.”

“Well it’s a good thing I have Judge McClaron on speed dial.”

That’s how Peter ended up on the couch of a group home. They didn’t have enough beds to accommodate him, but group homes weren’t always known for being comfortable. The other boys didn’t speak to him; he knew how to keep his head down and they weren’t going to bother him.

In the meantime, the state enrolled Peter in the closest school. Since he was still fifteen, he had no legal right to drop out. It was a poorly funded school in mid Manhattan, just a ten minute walk south of Koreatown. It was practically a prison, with security guards and metal detectors at every entrance. Not that Peter wasn’t grateful to begin school again, but this wasn’t exactly what he’d envisioned. They offered no advanced courses, and they put him in chemistry and geometry, both of which he’d finished years ago. 

So Peter took to sleeping through a lot of the classes that would allow it. It made up for the lack of sleep he got on the lumpy couch at the home, and it served as protection against bullies, who thought class participation was a reason for a beating.

The neverending routine made Peter restless. He was used to days of patrol, and library research, and doing what he wanted. This mundane schedule was really making Peter question why he was there in the first place. Waiting for Tony? He wasn’t even sure if Tony was going to follow through on his promise. But he waited anyways, because at least right now he had a roof over his head.

“Peter will you stay after for just a few minutes.”

Peter blinked himself out of his sleep. “I um… I have history next period.”

“It won’t take long.” Ms. Wilson promised.

Peter acquiesced and sat uncomfortably on the edge of his chair.

“You’re a really bright kid, Peter. You’ve gotten almost perfect scores on every test in class.”

“I’ve already taken chemistry.”

Ms. Wilson smiled. “I’m aware. I’m also aware that you’re in foster care, and you’ll be moving in a week or so?”

“That’s right. Assuming everything goes as planned.”

“I would highly recommend you for placement at Midtown School of Science and Technology.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “I really appreciate it Ms. Wilson, but it’s a little outside my price range.”

“There are scholarship opportunities I would gladly point you in the direction of.”

Peter swallowed. It was everything he’d ever dreamed of when he was younger. Somehow it didn’t feel as wonderful as he’d always imagined. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”

“I’m glad.”

* * *

Pepper came and visited him that weekend. “Tony wanted to be here.” She said, sitting down uncomfortably on Peter’s couch. “But something came up.”

“That’s alright. I know Mr. Stark is busy. Thanks for coming by.”

“It’s no problem. I actually wanted to ask you how things are going. School and all especially.”

“They don’t offer any advanced courses at this school. So they put me in a lot of classes that I’ve already taken.” He hesitated. “Actually, my chemistry teacher Ms. Wilson spoke to me the other day.” He glanced up warily. “About Midtown Tech. She suggested that I apply.”

Pepper seemed surprised. “That’s where Harley goes.”

Peter knew that, it was part of the reason why he was so wary at first. The thought of having to go to school with Harley seemed torturous.

“Yeah. Um… she mentioned that they have some scholarship opportunities and that she would recommend me.”

“I’ll definitely bring it up to Tony.”

“I know it’s a lot to ask Ms. Potts.”

“No. It’s reasonable. You’re a really bright kid, Peter. We’ll try our best to make it work.” She looked around at the cramped living room space. “And how’s everything else?”

“It’s pretty good. Definitely better than the first group home I was in.”

“I’m glad it’s working out.”

“There is one thing I wanted to ask.” Peter turned his eyes to the floor. “I’m almost out of my pills. Could you maybe ask Bruce if he could get me some more?”

A beat of silence. “Of course. Of course.” Awkwardness tinted the tone of her voice.

“Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem.” She stood from Peter’s couch. “I’ll see you soon, alright Peter?”

“Yeah. Thanks again for dropping by.”

Pepper smiled at him. “Hang in there.”

* * *

Peter wasn’t shocked to see Bruce sitting at the kitchen table when he got off of school.

“Hey Bruce.” He took a seat next to him. There was a tension between them that hadn’t been there before.

“Hi Peter. I’m really sorry about the other day. It’s not that I wanted you gone. I really like having you around. It’s just you’re a kid, you should be able to be a kid. And I felt the best option for you was to receive an education, put the heroing off to the side for a minute.”

“Yeah I get it.”

Bruce slid the new bottles of pills over to Peter. “Are we good?”

Peter sighed. “Yeah we’re good.” How could he stay mad at Bruce when all he wanted was the best for Peter?

“Pepper told me about Midtown Tech. I’m proud of you kid.”

“Well nothing’s decided yet.”

“Still. You deserve this chance.”

“Thanks, Dr. Banner” Peter hesitated. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Yeah?”

“Why don’t you foster me? I-I mean, Mr. Stark hates me, and I know he doesn’t want to do this.”

“Tony doesn’t hate you. He’s in rough spot right now, and I know he doesn’t treat you like he should, but I promise you, he’s your best bet. I’m not allowed to have children in my custody. The state considers me too dangerous and unstable.”

“That’s stupid.” Peter looked away, blinking away tears of anger.

“Hey, Peter. Everything’s going to be okay. You have to know that. The worst is over.”

“It doesn’t feel like it. It feels like no matter what I do, the universe keeps turning its back on me.”

“You have us now. We’ll make sure everything’s okay.”

“I don’t think the other Avengers will care if anything happens to me.”

“They do care.” Bruce insisted. “In their own way. It may not be evident now, but they do.”

Peter looked at the bottles in his hands and slipped them into his pocket. His eyes stared unblinkingly at the tabletop.

“Hey, Peter. Look at me.”

His eyelashes fluttered and he glanced up.

“You have nothing to be ashamed about. Nothing.”

“Thanks.” He whispered.

“I’m here for you. Remember that.”

“I will.”


	6. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this written since January, but I've held off posting because it's so short, but honestly, I'm just going to leave it as is. At started writing this over a year ago, and I didn't even have an outline, so I'm hesitant about continuing. I'd like to keep writing it, but I'm not sure where it's going. I might do a rough outline to just finish it up, I don't like the idea of leaving it abandoned.

How ridiculous was it that Peter was worried about his first day at a new school? He’d changed schools so many times over the years, it was natural at this point. But he couldn’t help but worry that he wasn’t enough for Midtown. That he’d be far behind after a year’s hiatus from school.

“Good morning, Peter.”

“Morning, Ms. Potts.”

Tony slid a plate of food in front of Harley and another to the seat beside him. “Eat, Parker.”

“Oh, um, thanks Mr. Stark.”

“Harley, Honey, be good to Peter alright? Make sure he knows where everything is.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Somehow, Peter doubted that he could rely on Harley for anything. He inhaled his food, grateful once again that his stomach was no longer hollow.

Harley nudged him. “We’re leaving in ten minutes.”

Tony had bought Peter a brand new backpack full of brand new supplies. He knew logically that a thirty dollar backpack was probably nothing to the billionaire but it meant everything to Peter. Even with Ben, Peter had relied on worn down backpacks from the second hand store. He felt wealthy, the bag on his back made him feel like he had money. It was unsettling

Harley and Peter got into the back of the limo. “Hey Happy.” Harley said. “Have you already met Peter.”

“Sort of.”

“We haven’t been formally introduced.” Peter added.

“So kid,” Happy continued, completely brushing Peter off, “how’s school going?”

“Pretty okay. Hybridization orbitals in AP Chemistry is always a bit of a struggle, but we’re doing a fun projectile lab in Physics.”

Happy and Harley chatted the whole way, but Peter didn’t mind much. He was glad to have some time alone with his thoughts before being chucked back into the school setting. A genius school setting no less.

Harley only acknowledged Peter’s existence once they had been dropped off in front of Midtown Tech. “Know where you’re going?”

“Not rea-“

Someone by the doors called Harley’s name and waved at him.

“Well I'm sure you’ve got it.” With that Harley ran off to join his friends.

Peter sighed. He hadn’t expected anything different really, he had just hoped Harley would at least show him to his first period class. He set off for the hallways, hoping he could navigate to Chemistry before the bell rang.

“You look lost.”

Peter looked up. A large Asian boy was smiling at him. “I am.” Peter laughed. “Horribly lost. I’m new.”

“And I’m Ned.”

Peter laughed awkwardly. “Peter, actually. Peter Parker.”

It was strange how completely ordinary this conversation was and it hit Peter suddenly how long it had been since he really spoke to another kid about normal things. His throat felt tight, thinking about how many other people he’d have to talk with throughout the day. He’d been extroverted as a kid, but foster care and homelessness chipped away at that. Peter found himself rather worried about having to engage in ordinary conversation with his peers.

“Here lemme see your schedule.”

He handed over the sheet of paper, waving it around a bit intentionally to try and hide the tremors in his fingers. 

“Oh you are lost aren’t you. The chemistry wing is over that way. Past the library.” Ned smiled at him, seemingly oblivious to Peter’s internal battle, and handed the paper back.

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll figure it all out soon. And it looks like I’ll see you in Literature and Physics too.”

“Thanks so much. I’d be wandering these halls until lunch without you.”

Ned grinned. “Just doing my part.”

“Thanks again.” Peter raised his hand and wandered off again in search of chemistry.

He ended up finding most of his classes okay but was beyond relieved when literature finally arrived. Ned waved him over and he sat beside him gratefully.

The teacher walked in at the bell. “I hope you’ve done your assigned reading, today we’re discussing the intricacies of Lady Macbeth as a character.”

Peter looked up and his eyes wandered over to a girl in the front. His heart dipped and the world around him seemed to fade out. “Hey Ned.” He whispered. “Who’s that?”

“Hm? Oh, Michelle. She’s head of the decathlon team.”

“Mr. Leeds, I suggest you stop talking before you earn yourself a detention.”

“Sorry Ms. Donovan.”

“And Mr. Parker. Not a good first impression. I’m not impressed.”

“Sorry.”

When the bell rang, Peter was the first out of his seat. “Michelle.”

She looked up and recognition dawned on her. “Cemetery boy. Peter.”

“Right.” He smiled. “I didn’t think I would see you again.”

“Well I was certain I wasn’t going to see you. I thought you were done with the whole school thing.”

“Yeah, I was. It’s kind of a long story. I was placed in a new home, sort of.”

“Sounds… intense.”

“Yeah, it was. I’m glad I know someone here. I was worried about starting.”

“Seems like you’re doing okay. Already friends with Ned.”

“He’s nice.”

“Ned’s a good guy. Also a key player on the decathlon team.”

“From what I hear, you’re the decathlon champ.”

“Well we could always use more brain power. You should join.”

Peter smiled, his heart did weird things in his chest. “Yeah, I’ll think about it.”

“Great.” She gave a crooked little smile that made Peter’s feel as light as helium and headed down the hallway.

For a moment, Peter could let himself believe that he was a normal kid. That he could date Michelle. Kiss her. And then… the fantasy dissipated, he couldn’t have that. He was HIV positive, nobody would ever want to touch him if they knew.

Ned clapped a hand on his shoulder. “C’mon Physics is this way.”

* * *

“How was school?” Pepper asked as Harley and Peter walked in.

“Great, I totally aced that history test.” Harley grinned. 

“Awesome!” She held up her hand for a high five. “How about you Peter? How do you feel about Midtown?”

Peter put his bag down and took a seat at the kitchen island. “It was pretty good. This boy Ned showed me around and I was invited to join the decathlon team.”

“That’s great, Peter.” Pepper said. “Are you going to join the decathlon team?”

“I don’t know. I’d like to. But I also have responsibilities.”

“Y’know, Peter is the first priority, Spiderman is second.”

Peter shrugged. “Yeah, I’m thinking about it.” He gave a soft little smile and headed off to his room.

* * *

“Hey kid.”

Peter glanced up from his packet of chemistry review. Captain Rogers was leaning against the doorframe.

“Training was earlier, so you’ll be training one on one with me today.”

Peter blinked and closed his textbook. “Oh, okay.”

“Maybe change into something a little more appropriate.”

Peter looked down at Harley’s hand me downs. “This is all I have.”

Steve straightened. “That’s fine, today isn’t too intensive. Just maybe, prepare better for next time.”

Peter’s ears went hot. “Okay.”

They headed down to the arena where Steve grabbed a staff from the rack. Peter stood in the middle, shuffling his feet uncertainly. Steve swung the staff around in warm up before aiming it at Peter, he instinctively jumped out of reach.

“You’re great at running away,” Steve noted, “but how about when you have to be on the offensive?”

“Why would I have to be on the offensive? Running seems to have suited me fine so far.” Peter tried for a joke.

It seemed a little unfair to Peter that Steve was armed and Peter was not. He’d been pinned ten times in the hour and it was certainly not building his self confidence.

When pointing this out to Steve he responded, “In the real world, you have to assume the other side has an advantage. You won’t be fighting petty thieves for the rest of your life.” Nevertheless he threw the staff to the side and switched to hand-to-hand combat.

It was easier for Peter to engage when it was all punches and kicks and extending limbs. This, he was used to. Used to as Spider-Man, and as Peter Parker in the system. He could take a fair beating and he could dodge pretty well. He couldn’t, however, hold his own against another enhanced human for more than twenty minutes, and he ended up pinned to the ground, Steve’s entire weight pressed into his back and his arms restrained behind him while his cheek pressed into the floor.

“Okay.” Peter huffed out. “You win, let me up.”

“Get out of it on your own.”

“C’mon, Captain Rogers, you won.”

“No.”

Peter’s heart felt like stone. He wriggled under Steve. “Let me up! Let me up!”

He suddenly felt so exposed. He felt so vulnerable and all he could think of was Skip, holding him down just like this. 

An inhuman sound escaped him and he fought instinctively against Steve’s grip. He was back in his bed at Skip’s, he was pinned and there was pain, and he couldn’t  _ escape _ . He wailed and that sound was so not human, not  _ Peter,  _ that Steve let go.

Peter scrambled away sobbing until he was huddled in on himself on the edge of the room.

“Jesus, kid.” Steve was on his feet and he looked terrified.

He’d quieted some, now a trembling, whimpering mess on the mat. When he could finally breathe again, he looked up to see Steve sitting criss crossed several feet away from him.

“What the hell was that?”

Shame slammed into Peter full force. “I just…” his voice was hoarse. “Skip.”

“Skip? You skipped what?”

“No. I… didn’t Mr. Stark tell you?”

“Tony rarely communicates anything with us.”

“I… never mind, it doesn’t matter.”

“It obviously does, you just spent a half hour crying.”

Peter felt like his throat was full of rocks. “I can’t.” He marinated in his humiliation for a moment before forcing himself to his feet. “Ask Bruce. Ask him about Skip.” 

With as much dignity as he could muster, Peter scattered out of the arena and headed back to his bedroom, where he could hide under his heavy duvet and pretend things were different. 

It wasn’t long before Steve knocked on his door and came in. He shut the door behind him and Peter tried to tamp his unease. Steve watched him carefully as he pulled a chair out to sit on. 

“Bruce told me you were raped.”

Peter’s breath caught in his throat and he stilled. He hated that word. He hated that once it happened to anyone, they became either a victim or a liar. Another statistic, and nothing more.

“You’re so young.” Steve seemed broken up about it, which Peter didn’t understand. He had never cared before.

“I was eight.” And before he could lose the nerve, he added. “I have HIV now.”

Steve’s eyelashes fluttered and he put his hand over his mouth. “Christ. I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“For pushing your when you told me to stop. For almost sending you back. For… for a lot of things.”

Peter didn’t know what to say so he settled for a quiet. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

No it wasn’t. Peter blinked and looked down at his lap. “I don’t need your pity.”

“No.” Steve agreed. “You don’t. But you have my respect.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re strong, Peter. And so brave. Those are the qualities of a hero I respect.” He stood and headed out of Peter’s room.


End file.
